From Within
by WenchofNarcad
Summary: Whitney has been locked in the mineshaft for over six weeks. She has not broken her locks, and cannot physically escape. With her rescuers murdered, she must rely on Jason, but she knows he wants to keep her. Will she ever break free? Based on 2009 movie
1. She Needed Him

Whitney strained her eyes to see through the darkness. Still chained and left on the mattress in the mine shaft. Her wrists were bleeding and aching from trying to break free of her chains. Her throat was sore, her voice raspy. She'd called out so many times for help over the last month she could scarcely whisper. She didn't know what was going to happen. Jason... every time she saw him her blood ran cold. After the first week though, she stopped worrying that she would die beneath his cold frigid grasp. For 6 weeks Whitney sat in the dank dungeons of the mine shaft, Jason coming and going daily, always carrying over his shoulder a long bag, and she just knew there was a body inside. He'd come, stop to look at her, and he'd continue on his way, every time she'd flinch, look away, or look directly at him waiting. Waiting for him to come back and fill her food dish, and her water jar. She felt like a dog, a prisoned useless dog chained and waiting to die. She understood now why dogs needed dog houses – those left outside alone become crazy – already the world around her was fading from reality into hallucinations.

He'd killed all her friends, he'd killed many others, but not her, she knew why. The locket – the lady in the locket looked just like her, his mother. Perhaps Jason thought Whitney was his mother. The whole story made her want to cry.

Suddenly a loud thump came echoing through the shaft, a female shriek, blood curdling and desperate. It was the last shriek that woman would ever make again, Whitney knew Jason had quickly murdered the woman. Whitney's sobs were violent, her would-be rescuer murdered. She knew one thing though, as long as she held onto that locket she had some power over him, her one bargaining tool. She'd never escape. She knew his strength, she knew he'd never let her go, she looked like his mother.

Slow, powerful footsteps continued her way, she saw his shadow enter, it was Jason. One body over his shoulder, one body dragging behind him, a rope around its neck, the other end in Jason's left hand. She peered over the old broken 1950s radio, but the darkness enshrouded the corpses. "Oh Jason" she whispered, her voice riddled with disgust, disappointment wonder, questions, her head droped, her eyes hit the hallow between her crossed legs, More victims? Why? Why was he murdering? Why was she stuck there, oh it was horrible.

She was filthy. She hadn't washed in six weeks, or brushed her hair, or changed her clothes. She hadn't menstruated, she was too starved, too stressed and afriad. She must have lost 20 pounds. He continued down the shaft, and she heard nothing more. _I'm going to die in here_, she thought to herself. Did he eat? Did he sleep? Was he truly alive? Horrendous thoughts of zombies filled her mind. She was fading further from reality into a constant state of hallucination, images of blood, death, and distortion flashed before her eyes. She laid down on her mattress, her sighs were shaky, in fact her whole body was shaking. Jason wasn't coming back for a long time again. Her bowl and cup which lay in the dirt beside her mattress was still empty. He filled it with water and soup – no, not soup – more like stew, she didn't know what it was, it was flavorless, disgusting – but every day he filled it, she felt like a dog, a prisoned dog. He never said a word to her, never. 6 weeks she sat on that mattress, chained. Everyday she moved the chains to a different spot on her wrists, hoping she would not become wounded or infected, though the chains had begun to cut her several weeks ago, and she was in incredible pain, and infection was inevitable.

Jason wasn't going to kill her. He would have killed her already.

Her water had been empty all day, today he hadn't come to refill it. She was so afraid. Then she really cried – her thoughts, for a brief moment, had turned to horror when she for one brief second feared the thought that he would not return. It was then she realized she had become completely domesticated, she was completely and absolutely vulnerable to him. She belonged to him. She hit her head against the dirt wall beside her, hoping to end it – the thoughts, the pain, the suffering. She cursed this day – for this was the first day she knew that she needed him to return to her.


	2. Offerings

**Author's Note:**

**Thanks to those who read and reviewed so soon after I posted my chapter – I was very surprised to see this. Thank you very much for your kind words.**

**Now, I hope you enjoy the next part of this creepy store :)**

**Chapter 2.**

"Jason, you have to take these off me" Whitney pleaded.

Jason stood in the middle of the room, looking over at Whitney, not saying a word. Upon her request he moved his head from left to right very slowly, his mask concealing any expression, if he even had one.

"They're cutting me. I'll die if you leave them on." She knew her attempts were useless. He turned his back to her and walked back toward the deep of the tunnel.

"Jason come back!" Whitney hollered, though he did not respond. "Oh God" she whispered. Jason, Jason, Jason, Jason, Jason, Jason, Jason. His named ran through her mind over and over again, and it was torturous. Was there even an outside world? Did it still exist up there? Had she died? Maybe Jason was a demon – maybe she was in hell. Begging wasn't helping the situation – the more she asked the less he helped. She laid down on her back, resting her head on the pillow, and stared at the earthen ceiling above her.

"What happened to you was wrong Jason" Whitney cried out – though she was weak, she would use the last of her energy to get out to him. "What about me? Are you going to make me hate you like everyone else hates you?" That was stupid, she thought... Jason kills everyone he comes into contact with, she seriously doubted he cared much about what people thought of him. "What would you're mother say Jason!?" She hollered, then she laid back and listened as those notorious footsteps crept back in her direction, growing louder and louder down the mine path until he finally made his entrance into the room. He approached her, gave her her water, and her food, and left. "Jason wait." She said, but he did not turn back. Now she was frustrated, and the food and water was gone before 5 minutes. In agony, she didn't know when she'd see him again.

Over the weeks Whitney had grown disgusted with herself for admitting she needed him, but she was slowly getting over this. As long as he wasn't hurting her, she began to realize she could survive as long as she needed to. Someone would find her, right?

Whitney was licking her bowl clean of the disgusting filth he was feeding her when he came back into the room. She felt her heart drop into her chest, she did not hear him coming this time. How on earth had she not heard him coming? Now her heart was racing as he approached her once more.

"Jason, I'm hungry" she said, her voice shaky and low. His eyes met her's for a mere 2 seconds, every time this happened she felt shivers rush up her spine, something in his eyes just wasn't right. He lowered himself beside her and reached out for her ankle and she would have shrieked had her worn vocal chords not failed her. He pulled out more chains and clasped one down over her shin. "No Jason! Please no!" she begged.

"Shhhhhhhh"

Whitney was completely silenced now – the first noise he had ever made to her. She was frozen, couldn't move, just allowed him to do this to her. He shackled her other ankle, and tears began to flow down her dirty cheeks. Jason then reached into a pocket in his ragged shirt and pulled out a rusty key. He unlocked the chains around her wrists. She realized he had heard her statement about the chains, and her cuts.

"Oh my God" she whispered in complete and utter disbelief, and looked up at him, watching him slowly ascend. Her gaze fell to her scraped and bloody wrists. She wanted to say 'thank you', but wasn't sure this was a good idea. He did something to help her, to take care of her. To a starved prisoner of almost 2 months, this was no small deal.

"Jason don't go" she said - "Stay please? with me?"

He was a murderer, a filthy murderer, she couldn't trust him, didn't want to trust him, but perhaps she needed to.

He turned around, and left.

"No!" She cried, and began to weep. Not only was it horrifying for her to be left in such a place with very little food, and water, but she was left completely alone most of the time, after nearly 7 weeks, which seemed like so much longer in her mind's calendar, even Jason was beginning to seem good enough company. Whitney began licking her wounds, like an animal would, hoping to clean them, however painful touching them was.

A few hours later, Whitney heard those notorious footsteps, he was coming back. She hoped he would provide her with something, but instead she found him carrying yet another bag over his shoulder. This time he passed right by her, not once glancing in her direction. Another poor victim. How many people come to this lake? She wondered. How many stupid people could possibly want to come here, do the rumors of missing people never hit the news? Do people never research a place before camping in it? She felt incredibly stupid for having ever come to Camp Crystal Lake, and now felt this away about every other idiot who came.

"They must all be stupid fools" Whitney said as she saw Jason return almost 6 hours later. "Coming in here, on your land, in your realm, they must all be incredibly stupid to trespass against you Jason."

"Why are you talking!?" Infuriated, he violently moved in her direction. His voice was an evil slithering hiss of a whisper, one she would never forget, and the moment it left his mouth her eyes widened in utter fear. She didn't know fully why she was talking, it was spur of the moment hope that she would get a reaction out of him, anything to provoke him, though no real course of action would get him to help her in any way.

"I'm hungry, I need more water. Let me clean myself, let me eat and drink, I'll stay chained, I promise I won't take the chains off or try to take them off, if you please bring me more food and water, please please, I promise I won't scream any more, I promise... I promise I'll be here, I'll be under here with you Jason, I'll help you, please Jason don't let me die."

She could barely hear herself speaking, she didn't know where those words were coming from. Certainly she didn't mean most of them. She wanted more food and water but she'd rather rot than take care of a monstrous murderer... no. She was willing to take care of a murderer if it meant her own survival.

Whatever she had done though, she looked into his eyes through that hideous mask and saw sadness in his eyes. He left then, but came back with a jug of water. Compared to the small cup she was drinking out of, the jug looked like an ocean. Then, the bells rang. Whitney's first instinct was to scream. She always screamed when the bells rang, but wait, she had promised. She promised. She had to cover her mouth. Jason's head snapped quickly toward the bells, and within an instant he was gone. Whitney took the jug and drank like she'd never drank anything before. So thirsty was she, she could feel her cravings dissipate as she drank and drank and drank. Nothing had ever felt so good in her entire life as the feel of clean water rushing down her throat.


	3. Reluctant Obedience

**Author's Note: Hi everyone, thank you for the great reviews!**

**White_Spyder, you bring up an incredibly important point, and I was extremely hesitant about Jason speaking as well, because as we see in the movie he doesn't really talk... at all in fact, except for when we hear him whisper "perfect" or something like that, when he finds his mask in the attic of that perverted man's shed :p. My motives for Jason-speek was for the two characters to be able to exist together - anyway, you're the reader, and I will respect your wishes, I'll try to keep Jason as silent and creepy as possible :)**

**I rated this story M because of the yuckiness I am prepared to put in this story. If anyone is a fan of gore - let me know if I need to improve on my yuckiness :)**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 3:

A loud male screaming penetrated the thick air beneath the earth, Whitney sat alert, Jason was bringing the man alive. Constantly the man screamed "help! HELP!" As though someone could hear him. Whitney sat shaking her head, she knew the man was more hopeless than she, and now, in this demented state, she felt special, and mustered a smile. Her lips cracked as she made her grin, and began to bleed. Jason wouldn't hurt her the way he was hurting that man... "I'm special" she whispered to herself, and jumped when the struggling man landed against the wall of her room. Jason stormed toward the pathetic lump of a man, who was bleeding, coughing, and as he struggling to a standing position, Whitney saw the huge metal rod sticking out of the victim's stomach, and out again at his back. He had been skewered. There was no way this man was going to survive.

The man looked at Whitney, sitting on the mattress, chained by the legs and filthy. She was just sitting there, so innocently, so quietly, no fear what so ever upon her face. The man was dumbfounded by her presence. "Help me!" he cried to her "HELP ME!" He lunged out of the way toward Whitney as Jason charged at him from behind with a large ax. Whitney shook her head, she didn't know what to do. Jason watched as the man dug his nails into the dirt floor, clawing his way towards her. Whitney continued to shake her head "You have no hope" she told him quietly, "There's nothing you can do."

"Help me" He begged.

"Come here. Come here" Whitney told him, and he slowly moved to her. Jason watched. Whitney picked up her drinking glass and smashed it against the broken radio beside her. She took his hand. "Don't be afraid" she told him, and with one swift motion, slit his throat with the sharp end of her glass shard. The man fell stomach first, the rod piercing him further, the rest of it coming out his back. He gurgled, and choked, spat up blood and wriggled, until his eyes rolled back in his head, and his last struggles obliterated into nothingness. Whitney felt good about what she had just done. The poor man – eight weeks ago that had been her, except she hadn't been mortally wounded. This man was a dead man, and she brought him to relief, and hoped at the same time, Jason would accept her gesture as an offer of help.

Jason dropped his ax. Whitney starred up at him. She got on her knees, and grabbed the body by its hair. "What should I do with him Jason?" she asked "Should I cut him up? burn him? What can I do for you Jason?"

* * *

Whitney thought of her mother, her poor mother. Was her mother watching her? Her dead mother, was she looking down from heaven? Could she tell that Whitney was going to hell now? Whitney felt as though she'd made a deal with the devil, standing in this filthy subterranean warehouse, a horridly rusted chain around her ankle, attach to an extremely heavy metal mace. That man whom she had killed was no more now than a collection of flesh parts, hands, feet, hair, blood, bone, but he was dead. This was as far as she would go and she knew it. That man had been dying. She didn't know if she'd be able to kill a living man. All she could do now was ponder how on earth she'd escape with a huge ball and chain around her left ankle. _Put the parts into the grinder_ Jason had sneered. Whitney would never forget the feel of his hands on her legs as he undid those chains. He was too rough to handle, she had bit her lips to a bleeding mass. Jason's fingers, which he concealed with thick brown cloves, were unfriendly, and almost painful. _Hit the green button, and finish all of him._ Whitney took a deep breath and started loading the bloody and slippery pieces into the metal barrel. Aided only by a dim overhead light, she hit the green button and watched as the blades began to twirl within the machine, blending the blood and guts, hard and soft pieces.

Whitney continued loading until all that remained around her was a stinking puddle of blood and guts, in which she too was covered in. She stopped the machine. Everything had poured out into a large bloody mass into an old filthy white plastic bowl at the other end of Jason's machine. Whitney became nauseous very soon. As she starred at the mashed bits a morbid terror swept over her without hopes of dissipating when she realized the mass looked exactly like the filth Jason had filled her food dish with every day for the past two months. Whatever hope she had felt before ceased to exist within her consciousness, Whitney knew only one thing, and this was that she had to get out of there.

As she dragged her ball and chain away from the grinder room, she couldn't help but ask herself, how many people had she eaten since being imprisoned?

"Jason, Its done. He's finished. Jason." She wanted to tell him this was all wrong. She limped back toward her mattress, and sat. She'd never be able to change his mind. She wasn't as weak as she had been though. As gross as cannibalism was, it had kept her alive. Oh the situation was just terrible. She didn't know how much more of this she could handle.

"I'm surprised at how well you've done" Whitney said, trying so hard to stop her voice from shaking. "Out here all on your own, and you're taking care of me. You're doing so well" She slightly turned her face away, for all she knew he would pick up on some hint that she was fabricating.

He starred at her through his mask, his eyes paining, a distrust for everyone outside the mine shaft, for anyone except perhaps her.

"They should pay for what they've done to you."

"Its good you understand" she could barely make out his growling whisper.

The bells rang, and Jason left. Whitney crawled back to her mattress and began to hyperventilate, letting everything out as quickly as possible before he returned with the next body. God that was the most horrifying conversation she'd ever had in her entire life, she shook all over, and tried not to cry but the tears fled down her face in utter disobedience. When Jason returned, he threw a dead man onto the floor before her.

"Finish him."


	4. To Touch a Monster

**Author's Note: Hope you like this one, cause I really like it :D.**

**Chapter 4.  
**

Grinding bodies became a daily chore for Whitney, pretty soon it was nothing more to her than cooking dinner. She had given up planning to escape, though she continuously wondered why Jason wanted her there all the time, was it for the sole reason that she resembled his dead mother? Or did he crave another presence down there with him. Whitney waited all day every day for Jason to return to the mine shaft, he was the only '_person_' she had any contact with over the months. It was a lonely hell. Whitney dragged the ball with her back into her room, and waited for Jason. Over the past week she'd toyed with the radio beside her, but it was definitely broken. She'd organized the malicious tools hanging along the walls, killed a few rats... she was bored. Wanting out of there had nothing to do with survival any more, she desperately wanted to see the sun again.

Jason's powerful footsteps boomed along the path. When he entered he found her standing in the middle of the room.

"I need you to switch my chain again Jason" Whitney said. Every time she spoke to him she said his name, maybe she'd turn him into more of a human this way, if she could call him that, but it had been a vast long time since she began this technique and he really hadn't changed at all. Whitney shook her head to herself, no man would ever change.

She sat down on her mattress with her legs out and watched Jason as he unlocked the chain and replaced the shackle on her right shin. His touch, though rough as ever, didn't hurt so much any more. The whole time she looked at him, looking through his mask to his eyes, watching him. Who was he?

Jason abruptly stood and instantly left the room. He hadn't brought her water today. Maybe she had gone too far with the eye contact?

The body was finished, there was nothing more to do. Whitney lay back down on her increasingly filthy mattress and closed her eyes. She wished she had a blanket to pull over herself, or some sort of music in the room with her. It had been a great fear of hers that the tunnels were haunted with the spirits of Jason's victims but as of now she'd heard nothing but Jason and his wriggling writhing victims in those halls. Very quickly Whitney drifted to a light sleep, both arms around herself, facing the dirt wall. She drifted into a slow dream, about her dead boyfriend, about the rest of the camp she'd first come with, her weed seeking friends, the house, the bedroom. She jumped awake. The image of that bed with Jason's name on it had sent shivers throughout her being and they would not go away. She remembered everything, Jason had a house, with a kitchen, with a bedroom. She thought about that bed with Jason's name on it. The wooden frame. And then, Whitney began to cry. Sometime in Jason's life, he had a mother, and he had been loved. She wept in her corner, knees pulled up to her chest. He was causing so much harm now but at one time he had been loved. He had a mother.

She wondered if he still slept in that bed. She wondered what he was like as a child. She'd never been more tortured in her life. She stood, and dragged that ball and chain out of the room with her, and moved slowly down the mine shaft. The first time in months she'd left that part of the tunnels. She knew she couldn't go anywhere, but walking around the tunnels did not qualify as trying to escape. The walls were dirt, the floor was dirt, the ceiling was dirt. All around her the aroma of thick soil lingered strongly in the air. The ball and chain seemed to grow heavier as she progressed down the winding path. She passed rooms one by one, all filled with old junk. A small bicycle with only one wheel, all rusted and bent, the red paint severely chipped and worn. A few old stoves, a fan with ribbons hanging off of it. She encountered a few bones, even a skull with the hair still coming out of it. None of it was a surprise to her any more.

Whitney felt as though she'd faint when she heard a loud crash just down the tunnel in the direction she was walking. She gasped, and before she knew it, she found Jason storming at her, angrily, releasing a growl from his throat so hideous she'd never heard anything like it. He was carrying his machete. Before he reached her he threw it violently to the ground. He then stopped right in front of her, his eyes piercing into hers infuriatingly, as though to inquire why she was leaving.

"I was looking for you Jason." Whitney said, pulling out her locket, and holding it up. "I wanted to see you Jason. I'd never leave Jason, don't worry." She reached for his left hand, bringing his palm to an open position, the whole time watching his eyes, and she placed to locket in his hand. "You leave me alone here so much. I feel neglected, I feel like I have no one to take care of me when you're gone. You're all that I have Jason, in the whole world."

He watched her carefully.

"My mother is dead, my brother, my family. I have no one, only you."

She realized her dream earlier had been a message from heaven. She saw sincere pain in his eyes, she was finally hitting him on a personal level. "I'd never survive in the world up there all by myself. I have no home, no help. There is nothing for me up there Jason. You are all that I have."

She was shaking from within, but held herself still. She brought her arms up, reached around his neck and embraced him like perhaps a mother would embrace a child. Just then Jason pushed her away. She landed on the floor, on her back. He turned away and stormed down the tunnel. Whitney knew she'd broken ground with him, this couldn't be easy for him to handle, his whole life, or his death, mourning his past, avenging it. Maybe he was going off to cry? One thing was for sure, Whitney hadn't hugged anyone in a long time, and it actually brought her some comfort. Then she punched the dirt wall beside her, and screamed in frustration. She never thought she'd lean on such a monster for comfort.


	5. Bed Time

**Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far, you're comments are extremely helpful to the progress of this story.**

**Here goes...**

**Chapter 5: Bedtime  
**

Whitney remained on the floor of the tunnels throughout the day, and Jason did not return. She could always tell when it was night time, the air would change, it got colder, even the smell of the tunnels was different at night. Jason was away for a very long time. Whitney decided to stand, which was a bad idea, she fell back into the dirt, unaware of how weak she had become lying there all those hours with no food and no water, again. Slowly, she got to her feet, and began dragging that cursed mace down the earthen path with her.

The whole time that image of Jason's bed, with his named carved into it, would not leave her mind. That house, Jason must be in that house. As she moved past the filthy neglected storage rooms, she caught site of what looked like an extremely thick and powerful ax. Glancing back and forth from the mace to the ax, she knew she had to get that thing off of her. One strike after another, Whitney's attempts to remove the mace from her shackled leg seemed almost impossible when finally, one of the links in the chain broke under the heavy blade, and she was able to free herself from its weight and burden. She took off running down the mine shaft, running until she felt dizzy, until finally she reached the trap door. She pulled herself up through the floor and fell onto the floorboards, gasping for air. She couldn't see properly, as though suffering from a permanent head rush, she knew she was in Jason's house.

Whitney crawled on her hands and knees to the staircase, and up into the bathroom, where she and her former boyfriend had explored that fateful night. She turned the cold water tap, and was incredibly surprised not to mention thankful that water actually came out of it, and she drank, and drank, and drank, like the first time Jason had brought her the jug. She never wanted to leave that sink, no matter how filthy it was, it looked spotless to her. Eventually she stood, regained her focus, and looked in the mirror above the tap. God she was hideous now. Two months without washing her hair, without cleaning her face. She looked like the dirt she had been living in. She hunted around the bathroom, and found an old rag handing from a rusty hook behind the door. With this rag she cleaned the dirt from her face, arms, legs, chest, using an incredibly old looking bar of soap. Afterward, she was somewhat recognizable.

She leaned over the tap, taking a few more sips of the freezing water, and peered up at the mirror once more. It was then she saw the marks. Slowly, the mirror began to fog up, though the temperature in the room hadn't changed in the slightest. It fogged up as though someone had taken a shower, and then marks began to appear, words began to appear, as though someone wrote them with their index finger. _Get him out of here_, the message read. Whitney looked over onto the floor, the skull was still lying there where it had been left. Whitney looked back to the mirror. Jason's mother's ghost? she asked herself, it was the only explanation. She pondered those words. Get him out of where? Out of the house? Out of the tunnels? Out of town? Out of his present state of living? His present state of mind? A few of those options were of course just not possible, but the others... she could perhaps play a part in.

Whitney knew one thing now more than ever before. Even with the ball gone from her ankle, she was beginning to belong here. She didn't want to leave.

Whitney had to see that bed again – It was burned into her mind like a fond memory, a feeling. She left the washroom and moved down the hall. His bedroom, right there, his bed, the window with the curtains blowing gently above the breeze, and he was there. Jason. Sleeping in that bed. Whitney's heart began pounding. She didn't know what to do now. If she woke him, he'd be incredibly angry to find her out of the tunnels, and even more angry to find her without the mace attached to her leg. She was stuck. Stuck watching him sleep. He slept with the mask on. Now that was a sad sad site, a few small tears came to her eyes. Asleep, he was harmless, childlike. His chest moved up and down slowly. Was he dreaming? She wondered. She took a few silent steps toward him, until she stood above him. He was definitely sleeping.

The whole time Whitney had known him, she had never seen him without the mask. No... as soon as the thought occurred to her she refused to carry it out. If she took Jason's make off while he was asleep he'd kill her. Whitney reached both hands for the covers, and began to gently pull them over him, leaving only his face out of the blanket. Then she saw his eyes snap open from inside the mask, and stare directly up at her.

"Shhhh, Jason..... Its ok... Shhhhh" she whispered. She saw his eyes close again, perhaps he was not as fully awake as she thought. He probably thought he was dreaming. Whitney walked toward the door, and stood in the frame watching him. He was still sleeping. She left then, and made her way back to the trap door. She climbed into the tunnel, and walked back toward her mattress. She fell asleep very quickly, something about the day's experiences had changed her completely.


	6. If You Can't Beat'em

**A/N: Thank you so much for your fantastic reviews, to be honest, you're reviews drove me to the next chapter, I was getting worried that tmy story was fizzling out here :p, you guys are the best!!**

**Hope you enjoy.**

**Chapter 6:  
**

Whitney awoke a few hours later, she could tell the sun had not yet risen. She lay atop her mattress and allowed her mind to wander. She wanted to know more about Jason. She wanted to know the whole story, about why he was here, about what had happened to him during his childhood. She'd never be able to leave him now, for her inner connection to Jason and Camp Crystal Lake was far stronger now than any chain he could shackle her with.

She quickly sat up when she heard footsteps. She knew it was him, and she was happy he was coming. She watched the passage with wide waiting eyes until he appeared. He was carrying the broken chain and mace she had left behind her when she broke free, and in the other hand, a young man with long dark hair, dead of course, mutilated under Jason's cold malicious hands. He dropped the man in the middle of the room, and walked to Whitney, carrying the mace in his hand. She was still there, sitting on her mattress, the broken shackle still around her ankle. At this point she didn't know what he was going to do. Would he harm her for releasing her bonds? Would he accept her willingness to walk freely within his dwellings?

He dropped the metal ball on the ground, and unlocked her broken shackle. He knelt, looking into her eyes. Whitney found herself looking back. She tried so hard to understand him, to see something in him that might tell her who he really was. His facade, this frightening creature, couldn't have been all that he was, there had to be a person beneath it all somewhere. She reached her hand out to him, and waited.

"Jason" she said, wishing, wanting, desperately hoping he would take her hand. She found that slowly, his eyes passed from her to her extended hand, and she could have sworn he was about to reach back, when those evil bells rang. Jason jumped from the ground and left fast, like an animal. Whitney began to sneer. Anger surged throughout her entire being. Those stupid stupid people. If she could have built a wall of stone surrounding the entire camp, so she and Jason could just be left alone, she would. She stood and walked fiercely from the mattress, picking up the machete Jason had thrown to the ground hours ago. Who was it that made those awful bells ring? Who dared interrupt that perfect, perfect moment?

Whitney leaped through the trap door, and rushed out of the house into the woods, into the darkness. She could hear the screaming, it was another teenager, sounded like a girl. A stupid girl, Whitney though, running toward the cries of ultimate fear. From the corner of her eye she could see the camp fire, and the tents. She wanted them all dead, she wanted every one of them to pay for coming here, especially that girl, who dared to scream before Jason.

Jason was no where to be found, but Whitney stumbled upon the girl, wounded, unable to scream any more. "Help" the girl gurgled through the blood emerging from her mouth. In this girl Whitney saw an image of her former self, a girl so removed from who she was now...

"His name is Jason, young girl." Whitney knelt down before the dying teen, "You shouldn't have come here, you see, you don't know him. You don't know what he's been through. Every time you people come to these woods, you cause him so much torment. Do you know what its like to be neglected? left alone? Everything taken from you? No... stupid child. You don't know." With that, Whitney swiftly pushed the blade of her machete through the skin of the girl's throat, quickly releasing her of her life, and then dragged her by her hair back to the house. Jason would finish off the rest of them, she knew.

She tossed the limp body through the trap door, and slid herself in. The dead girl had left a trail of blood all the way from the scene of her death to the house. She was empty now. Down the mind shaft Whitney brought the girl. There was a pile of bodies now, all teenagers, Whitney was sure it was all of them. But Jason? He sat by her empty mattress, starring at is, as though he could not understand why Whitney was not there.

"Jason" she said,

He turned his head to see her.

"Oh no." She muttered beneath her breath. She stepped over the bodies and approached him, kneeling down to his level. It was perfect, they were right back where they had started minutes ago. As she captured his eyes, she reached out, only rather than waiting for a response from him, she took his hand, and brought it to her. She gently removed the filthy brown glove he wore, exposing his skin. It was his hand, Jason's hand, a human hand. A hand that, she realized, had done so much damage, yet had not done a thing to hurt her. "I'll be here forever" she whispered to him, bringing the back of his hand to her lips, and placing upon him a single kiss. Her eyes smiled, though her lips remained completely serious. She had him. It was perfect.

* * *

One by one Whitney piled the human flesh into the grinder. Jason had gone back through the tunnel. Whitney was proud of herself. She had finished one off, one horrid betrayer of her beloved, and knew things would be ok from now on. As long as Jason didn't have to be alone any more, she knew she'd be fulfilled, for the rest of her life. Whatever life she had lived before was completely dead to her, she was consumed by her new life, she knew she'd never be able to function back where she used to live, knew that if she ever left she'd break down, end up dead if she couldn't be with Jason. He was so overpowering, she was all consumed, and she liked it. His very presence in the room with her sent her insides to a level of intensity she had never experienced before.

It was done. She was once again covered in blood and dirt. That was ok, she had a bathroom now. She went to the house, and entered the washroom. She cleaned herself off again until she was satisfied with what she saw in the mirror. She waited, perhaps those words would appear in the mirror again. They didn't. She looked out the window. The sun had not yet begun to appear over the tree tops. Every curtain in the house blew with the wind. Whitney passed through the winding hallway until she reached the bedroom. Jason was asleep again. Whitney approached the bed, pulled back the covers. That night she fell asleep beside Jason.


	7. Things That Go Bump in the Daylight

**Chapter 7:  
**

Whitney blinked her eyes open as the first rays of light penetrated the transparency of the curtains. She had not moved during the night, she had fallen asleep facing Jason. She opened her eyes and he wasn't there. Why? She had fallen asleep with an image in her mind of waking up beside him, why wasn't he there? Would he speak to her if he was? She wished. He hadn't spoken in weeks. She wasn't sure however if she was hurt by this. His silence seemed insignificant compared to the power of his presence.

The sunlight. It had been so, so long. Whitney moved across the bed. The sheets where he had once rested were cold. He left a while ago. Whitney walked across the freezing floor boards to the window. She looked out at the sky, as the sun crept up above the tree tops, bringing light to everything it touched. It had been so long since she witnessed a sunrise, or seen the sunlight at all. She put her hand against the cold of the window, and took a deep breath. She starred out the window as though in a trance. It was like the world on the other side of a dream. The whole world looked... different.

Despite washing herself last night, she barely noticed the layer of dirt still covering her arms. Her eyes just would not adjust to the sunlight. Everything was different in the sunlight. It was blinding.

She had to get out, away from the sun. Whitney moved, slightly disoriented, from the bedroom, and down the stairs. She found the trap door, open and waiting for her. Only when the pale distorted glimmer of the underground lamps were her guiding light could Whitney finally take a deep breath, and calm down. Underground, everything was familiar. She was blinded by the outside world, it was frightening during the day. The sun was no longer a friend. She began running through the tunnels, until she found him.

It was the strangest thing in the world. He was in the grinder room. The mess Whitney had made last night at the machine still covered the floor. He didn't turn around, he was standing with his back turned to her, doing something at the counter. She wanted to see. She moved closer. She would have called out to him, had she not believed he was truly busy with something. What was it that Jason did during the day? Whitney then questioned why he would sleep during the night, if he spent the entire day in the dark. Would it not make more sense to adopt the sleeping habits of a vampire? She knew why... his past, it was not consistent with... Whitney nearly jumped out of her skin when Jason turned around. He had heard her clumsy footsteps, the shuffle of her feet against the bloody dirt. Had she seen a look of relief in his eyes when he realized it was her? Could he have been that distracted to not realize she was there in the first place? She could hardly see his eyes at all through that mask he always wore.

"Jason, I..." her words became lodged in her throat, as though solid matter, disabling her from speaking, and breathing. After what seemed like an eternity, Whitney's exhale was rugged. She peered behind him, she saw what he was doing. He was making the human dish he always made. For now she would accept his _mashed victims_, but she had immediately begun making plans to plant herself a garden in the clearing, where those idiots went camping. But then., she thought.. he was making her breakfast. Her other now-dead boyfriend had never done that for her... huh...

"I'm hungry." she said. She had him cornered. He couldn't throw her away and rush out like he had done before, unless he wanted to push her into the doorway and run over her. She wanted to smile but couldn't. The intent was there but, something else was happening. She was so nervous but, it wasn't her head leading her to walk to him, it was another part of her, the beating part. She could feel the blood, still wet from the previous night, beneath her feet. He didn't move. She stood before him, slowly removed the bowl from his hands and placed it on the table. If those bells rang she'd massacre the whole bloody town...

Whitney embraced Jason, slowly and gently, again not sure if he would throw her away. She waited, but that didn't happen. He stood with her, and it was a very, very long time before he put an arm around her.

-- -- -- --

"Something isn't write about that Crystal Lake camp these days". Tucker, an old sun burned truck driver with a base ball cap and a torn plaid flannel sweater, stormed half wasted into the gas station just a mile or two out of the woods. Old Mrs. Shevalier, the cashier, nodded, dusting her hands off on her yellow apron.

"You know, ever since them teenagers went missing a few months back, locals ain't gone missing much any more. Its just them campers that ya never see again."

Tucker slammed a $20 onto the glass above the bingo tickets to pay off the gas bill. "Bunch a' us up at County Huntin' lodge is gonna take a peek in and see whats causin' the sudden hush in depopyalation. Care ta join us?"

"Yer off yer nut Tucker... yer all gonna get yerselves killed."

"We got guns" Tucker grinned, gave her a wink, and stormed out of the gas station. Shevalier shook her head...

"If ya don't get yerself killed drivin' under that J.D. first..." she said to herself, pocketing the $20.


	8. Wounded

**A/N: I've got some surprises in mind for the upcoming chapters! This chapter I'm sure will lead to something some of you have expressed hopes for.**

**I can't tell you how much your reviews mean to me and this story - every day I check to see who has reviewed, and I'm always so pleasantly surprised. Thank you so much everyone!**

**Here it is... Chapter 8:  
**

-- -- -- -- --

Something in the air wasn't right. Whitney stood silently in the clearing after night fall. The crickets didn't sing, the frogs didn't croak, everything was silent. Not a gust of wind, not a bird singing, everything was quiet. She sat on a log, surrounded by the belongings of last night's former campers. She rummaged around through it all, curious now to know just who they were. Those campers brought a surprisingly large amount of _stuff._ Magazines, make-up, toothpaste, tons of clothing. It was all useful to her.

Whitey carried everything from the campsite into the tunnels and began making herself a bedroom around her mattress. Jason wouldn't be mad, right? as long as she was there.

Whitney unpacked everything. It was mostly clothes and accessories. The girl she had killed last night was fairly the same size as she, it must have been her bag she was looking through. Everything was Whitney's size. She paused. It had been a long time since she felt anything like this, the thrill of getting new _stuff_. It became clear to her that a part of her old self was still within her...

There was a watch, it was 10:46pm, Whitney had thought it was much later. In what must have been one of the guys' camping bags, there was a compass, a few maps, a pocket knife_, condoms?_ Whitney snorted, remembering the group of hopefuls she had come with so long ago.

The excitement of it all began to wear thin with her. There were no guns, no chains, axes, murder weapons... things Whitney had begun to see as a priority in the past months. It was stupid careless stuff. It was just stuff. But she could make use of most of it. She took the shampoo and some of the new clothes with her, and made her way out towards the lake. Crystal lake... everything her friends had told her about it around the camp fire that night. It was all true, but no longer frightening.

She removed all her ragged clothing, and walked into the water in complete disregard for its cold temperature. She hoped that washing her hair would not confuse Jason about who she was. She hoped he would still recognize her. If he didn't... that could spell trouble in so many degrees. She remembered though, she had resembled his mother before she became so dirty, surely he would still recognize her. She descended into the water, and tried to relax. After surfacing and lathering the shampoo through her hair, she noticed the sound of an engine in the distance. Quickly she rinsed the soap from her hair, and listened even more carefully. The moon was her only light, reflecting upon the water. She could not see anything more than the dimly lit edges of the coniferous trees surrounding the lake. But when she saw the headlights of what appeared to be a large vehicle, she began to growl, deeply, and angrily.

She looked completely different coming out of the water. Cleaner. She stood naked on the waterbank, watching the lights slowly turn the corner. She knew that just less than a half a mile from where they were headed was the entrance to camp Crystal Lake. Suddenly she thought about putting metal spikes up there to blow the tires of anyone stupid enough to drive beyond the welcome sign.

She dressed into her victim's clothing – blue jeans and a brown shirt with long sleeves. Barefoot, she rushed back to the house to find Jason.

-- -- -- --

"Yer sure this'll be ok?" Url said to Tucker as they pulled through the beaten path and parked in front of an old rusty post box. Url and Tucker had been part of the Hunting club since they dropped out of high school together 30 years ago. They made a living of hunting, and annoying the crap out of town's folk with their stupid pranks and sailor's mouths.

"Ya, ya you stupid shit... y'think the stories are actually true?"  
"But them people are always goin' missin' up around here."

"Just shut up" Tucker demanded, stopping the engine and climbing out of his truck. Tucker couldn't disagree with Url. He asked 20 of the other members to join them and Url was the only one who agreed, but that was only so he wouldn't have to spend the night at home with his wife and her dumb-ass sisters who decided a few years ago that crashing in their house was a perfectly good idea. Even worse, his wife allowed it. The place only had one bedroom.

Url climbed out of the truck. "Give me a gun" he said... "Right now." His voice just oozed fear, the kind that really strikes you when you realize you've walked in on something you shouldn't have, and its too late to turn back. Tucker though, who was always half drunk, didn't seem to notice much other than the fact that Url was really scared.

The two walked further. Tucker chuckled "This'll be a hoot" he said, "Wait till them campers get a load a us! We'll scare them... they'll never come back!"

-- -- -- -- ---

Whitney approached the house, to find Jason standing in the door frame with a wood saw in one hand and a fire place poker in the other.

"Jason" she said "Its me Jason. I know I look different, but I'm still here, don't worry."

Jason stepped out onto the earth, and approached her. She stood and waited, unmoving, really not sure whether he would know who she was, or if he would kill her thinking her foreign. His steps quickened pace. He transferred the poker to the hand carrying the saw, and stopped in front of her. She looked at his choice weapons, and looked up at him. His eyes from behind his mask instantly captured her attention. She realized he did know who she was, and finally she could breathe again. He looked over her, from head to feet, he knew she had changed her appearance, but she was the same girl. He took off his glove and gently touched her hair as though exploring the differences, taking it from its position against her back to fall before her shoulder. Slowly he did this, while watching her. Then a twig snapped in the distance. Whitney knew it was them, from the vehicle. She put her hand on his, slowly removing it and guiding it back to his weapons. She had no idea that by touching him she'd feel – was shocked the right expression?

"They're here." she said. She watched as he left her, moving into the darkness. She wouldn't join him in this one. She would watch. Whitney left a good 50 yards between her and her murderous companion. She could now hear the voices of the brainless men who approached them. It sounded to her like there were only two of them. Whitney found a tree with a comfortable raised root, and sat to watch the show. Whitney felt saddened and frustrated by their presence at the camp. Every time she got close to Jason someone always came to ruin it. Always.

Jason was no where to be found. "Ya heard that, right Tucker?"

"Url, I swear t'God if y'don't shut yer mouth we're goin' home."

"Ok Tucker thats a good idea... lets just go h... I heard it again, there. Ah heard it again – lets get out a here..."

"You just wait here Url, I'll go see what it is." Tucker angrily whispered "Stupid shit" he muttered as he continued on his way in solitude. Whitney watched with suspense as _Tucker_ loaded his gun and continued down the pathway. Guns, she thought, how unoriginal.

"Tucker?" Url called, "Tucker, y'still there?"

Url received no answer. Whitney didn't see where Tucker had gone but in a split second he was gone from view, as though he had vanished into thin air. The other one wouldn't be hard to finish off. Url could hear the footsteps nearing him, and he began to tremble more and more as they came closer and closer.

"Oh Lordy" Url cried, struggling to load his gun. The footsteps ceased. Url sighed, "God help me out a this – I promise I'll be good"

_Crunch... crunch... crunch..._ rustling now approached from behind. Url turned around and was horrified to see the front lights of Tucker's truck spontaneously shine a blinding light before him. The entire area was illuminated.

"Tucker... if yer playin' me I'll never fergive... ..." He paused "Tucker?" he asked in a more silenced voice.

Url was paralyzed as he watched Jason walk out in front of the truck. Whitney didn't notice she was smiling from ear to ear. Url couldn't walk, he couldn't run, he couldn't even scream. Jason carried the poker in hand, slowly approaching. Url readied the gun, pulled the trigger and fired into Jason's left leg. Jason wasn't affected. Before he knew it, Url had the poker piercing one side of his head, and coming out the other. Whitney hurried over to the man called Tucker and began pulling him to the house. Jason dragged Url by the poker penetrating his skull.

Whitney threw tucker into the grinding machine, angrily. "STUPID! STUPID! STUPID MEN!" She hollered. As bits and pieces of flesh went flying everywhere. The bones crunched and cracked inside the machine, a noise she had become used to. She wondered why Jason hadn't made it to her by now. Where was he? After Tucker was done grinding, she headed back through the tunnels, and up through the house. Where was he?

She found him outside by the lake. "Jason?" She asked. He starred into the water. He didn't respond to her. She sat down beside him on the bank of Crystal Lake, and watched him watch the water in silence. It must have been awful to always have these people barging in, she thought. She was frustrated with it all because it was definitely affecting her life, but Jason... according to the story, his whole life he had experienced nothing but horrors from this place, the death of his mother, the constant attempts to harm him. "I'm sorry Jason, they shouldn't have come here." she said. She was sorry about it, even though she was incredibly impressed to see the power he had over intruders. He slightly turned his head, not enough though that he would look to her, but just enough for her to know he was listening. She turned her attention to the water, then to his leg. It wasn't even bleeding. The wound was there, but it wasn't bleeding. When he had walked he didn't even limp. She was amazed. She'd just die if she'd been shot anywhere, but he was so strong.

Hours must have passed. She just sat with him. At some point she had reached for his hand, and it was a while before she realized she was holding his hand. Had she reached for him? or the other way around? She didn't care. All she was concerned with now was how sad his eyes looked from behind that mask. How truly sad he was from tonight's events.


	9. No Regrets

**A/N: Hey all my fabulous reviewers! I'm so sorry for the delay in this chapter - darned not allowing me access! I was basically pulling my hair out by the time the site was back in business!!!**

**Anyway, please read & review, hope you like this chapter I know a few of you are raving for ... some stuff to happen :)**

Chapter 9

No more lights would shine down that road, not for a very long time. Whitney watched the water, rippling at the mercy of the gentle wind. She would go back to that truck, she would go back, find out what they left behind, and keep it. It was all theirs. But she couldn't go yet, could she? Still sitting with Jason, still holding his hand. Whitney was beginning to yawn. It must have been well into the early morning by now.

"Jason?" Whitney whispered, "We should go into the house Jason" she said. She knew he was deeply troubled but she couldn't remember having seen him in such a state. "Jason please, lets go inside?" She asked. When she let go of his hand, he turned his neck, and faced her. She nearly jumped out of her skin, he had startled her. She sighed with relief, "Jason, lets go" she said gently, slowly standing up. Jason stood then to face her. Whitney had never taken the time to fully realize how tall he was, how he towered over her when they stood so close. She exhaled slowly, starring into the eyes behind that mask. It was as though she... Whitney blinked twice, and looked up at him, looked over at the water, and over at the house. Feelings began passing through her that she could not control. She didn't know what they were, sentiment, or comfort, or...

She hadn't even realized how fast her heart was beating until she could hear it throbbing somewhere deep within her ear. Shocks traveled quickly up her right arm as Jason took her hand. They walked together back to the house. Whitney's stomach was growling, but she would wait until morning to search that truck, hopefully those idiots had had food with them. As hungry as she was, the thought of one more mouth full of that person porridge made her feel sick to her stomach. She walked with Jason up the stairs, and to his bedroom.

"Goodnight Jason" Whitney said, "I'll see you in the morning." Whitney giggled "Jason let go of my hand, I'm going to bed." "Let... oh... If you don't want to sleep alone - ." He released her hand. His breathing had changed, slower, and Whitney could swear – she saw tears in his eyes? She couldn't leave him alone now. She nodded. Whitney slipped beneath the covers, still fully dressed, and Jason followed. She rested her head on the pillow, facing him, wondering about his thoughts, what did he think about? He starred into her eyes, as he usually did. She smiled at him, she hadn't been so comfortable going to bed as she was at that moment. She felt, protected. The whole time in the mine shaft, all those weeks fearing this man, fearing he would harm her. Whitney now felt so safe beside him she didn't know what she would do if anyone actually succeeded in harming him.

The wind slowly moved the transparent curtains. Whitney watched the tree branches gently sway outside the window. It was so quiet, everything was so quiet. She was so incredibly tired, and she found it extremely difficult to believe how comfortable the bed was, how soft the pillow was. The darkness was a blind darkness, but she wasn't afraid, not as she had once been standing in the doorway of this very room. That whole event seemed to have passed years ago, such a distant memory to her, perhaps it was just a dream.

It happened in perfect synchrony, as though both were thinking the exact same thing, both wanted the exact same thing. Whitney moved to him, to rest her head on his chest just below his shoulder, her left arm moving across his abdomen, and he in turn placed his arm around her. She was asleep in minutes.

She awoke to the darkness. Sunrise still had not yet come. Jason was sleeping, he was still holding her. Whitney could not believe how happy she was, how comforted. She would give anything to stay like this.

In the darkness, Whitney pondered her earlier feelings, the instantaneous arise of emotions that swept through her. What was she doing now? They were in bed together, he was holding her. Did Whitney love him? How? She barely knew him, weeks ago he had been her worst nightmare. Weeks ago she had feared him so terribly she tried to kill herself against the wall of her prison. Weeks ago she had no one, weeks ago she was alone. Tonight she was not alone. She realized that perhaps her fears were a farce on her part. Jason had never intended to hurt her, Jason wanted to keep her since the day he put her in chains. He chained her because he worried she would leave. And she would have.

Tears came quickly to Whitney's eyes as she realized how much she would be missing now had Jason not chained her in the mine shaft. It was sick, and twisted, but Whitney knew she regretted nothing. She held on tightly to the one thing she knew now she could not live without, and remained with him, awake, until the sun rose the next morning.


	10. Its Time

**A/N: Hello all my lovely readers - sorry for the delay in this chapter, it has been an incredibly busy time for me, but this story has been on my mind the whole way through.**

**I left descriptions of Jason up to your imagination - I know he appears differently in every film - and I rely heavily on my own imagination when it comes to these things - so I thought this best. Let me know what you want for further chapters in terms of all out description ;)  
**

**Reader discretions: Some vulgar language coming up.**

**Thank you for all your wonderful reviews, I now get on my knees and beg - Please Please PLEASE!!! review :)??**

**Enjoy :D**

**

* * *

**Chapter 10:

Whitney awoke to the cool breeze of the rainy morning. The sheets next to her were empty. Jason must have woke with the daylight and left. She pulled the covers over her, she didn't want to leave, it was cold. She could have spent the rest of the morning beneath those sheets where it was warn, and who was stopping her from staying in bed all day? She laughed a sort of ironic laugh; a more pleasant life at Crystal Lake. She rolled over and looked up. Both walls came together in the classic form of an old attic ceiling. Just above her, the bold capital letters carved into the wood of the head board. _JASON_. She sat up slowly and rested her left side against the head board, running her fingers slowly, gently, over each letter. _Jason_. She sighed, lying back down beneath the covers, her head resting on the pillow, looking up at those letters, they stood above her. She knew where she was.

The sound of the rain coming down over the roof top nearly put her back to sleep. She was just drifting off when she heard a humming too loud to be rain. She rolled over, thinking perhaps it was Jason, but no. Muddy tires over wet grass. Whitney jumped from the bed, her knees hit the hard, cold floor, and she crawled up to the glass to peer just above the window sill. _Fuck, fuck fuck fuck... FUCK!_ Whitney thought. She slowed her breathing, soon she made not a peep. It was a cop car, a shiny new tough American style police car, with the little Christmas tree still hanging off the rear view mirror. Two large men in bullet proof vests, and guns lining their belts, slowly moving, slowly with loaded guns pointed steadily out in front of them, out into the pouring rain, as though hunting... for someone. The older one looked just like the guy Whitney had thrown into the grinder just last night. _Shit, shit...SHIT!_ she thought. He must be family.

Whitney hoped to hell Jason was close by. He would be, right? Did he ever kill during the day? DAMN IT! If they found her they'd take her away, and Jason wouldn't know where she was, he'd think she left him! No. _Ok... stop panicking Whitney, they're just cops, out here in the middle of no where. _

"Oh... GOD DAMN IT GEORGE!" the familiar looking officer yelled as he fell over onto his face, making a squishing sound as his well padded body hit the muck, his gun flying out of his hand onto the ground about ten feet in front of him, firing itself off into the trees somewhere. _What did he trip over?_

Whitney sighed with relief. That trap door downstairs opened violently, hitting the floor behind it, and the footsteps were slow, loud, booming, one by one,

thump.... .... ... thump... ... ... thump..... .... ..... thump...... .... ....

That man must have tripped over the bell trigger. Whitney watched with wide eyes. Where was he? She didn't see Jason anywhere.

"Damn fishing wire... George – it was a fishing wire. I damn-it told my brother Url not to come out here... but no, can't listen to a God damned word against 'im. And that brother of yours, Tucker ain't none the better."

So they were both brothers of the men she had thrown into the grinder last night. This was trouble, Whitney knew if these men went missing there would be more police out here looking for them.

Whitney crawled silently to the doorway, out into the hall, and peered through the spindles down the staircase, and saw Jason standing completely still, with two large machetes, watching the men through the front window.

"Kill them Jason" Whitney whispered to him, "Kill them for me?" Jason slowly turned his head in her direction, and saw her huddled under the rail, grasping the spindles on each side of her. Her eyes were wide, pleading. He made eye contact with her, then looked back through the window. Whitney loved watching him stalk, his demeanor held such power.

"GEORGE!" Url's brother yelled, watching his colleague stumble back a few steps, one large rusty machete piercing his throat, coming out the back of his neck with nearly not enough throat for the whole weapon to seep into. It was the most perfect aim Whitney had ever seen. George fell backward into the mud, making a _THUCK!_ noise. The rain lightly poured over the body, washing the blood down it's skewered neck. Url's brother stopped moving. He stood there in the rain beneath the mean gray skies, watching, listening. _HE_ was here, it was _Jason_, but he didn't know where the machete had come from. Jason just watched him through the window. All was quiet, until a twig snapped in the woods, and Url's brother turned around, back facing the house, pointing his gun toward the lake. When he turned back to face the house, a good two minutes later, the last thing he would ever see was Jason, standing so close to him he could hear him breathe, and within the very second Jason's machete ran through the flesh and bone of his neck, sending his head spiraling to the wet grass. His body stood standing for an unseemly 5 seconds until finally collapsing backward, to land chest upward upon the soft muddy ground.

Whitney came down the stairs slowly, and stood on the front porch. The rain, which fell harder and harder as the storm came nearer, was going to make it more difficult to move the bodies.

Whitney knew just then what had to be done. _George's_ radio was going off like crazy in the cop car parked just a few yards away. Someone was looking for them. Whitney and Jason both starred at the car. She had to get rid of it, and she had to get rid of the bodies the same way.

She walked out into the storm and plucked the machete from the one cop's neck. She picked up his arm, and began dragging him to the cop car. Jason starred at her. She dropped him.

"Jason" Whitney walked to him. "I'm going to take the bodies, and the cop car, away from here... ok?"

He shook his head from left to right, back and forth, slowly.

"I'm just going to drive them out into a different part of the road. I'm going to drop them off, and I'll be back in a few hours, Jason... you know I'll come back for you, I l..." She stopped herself before the words could emerge from her throat. It was something she could not have expected herself to say or mean, until just now, when she almost said it, and certainly meant it. Though, how would he respond? She knew he couldn't possibly trust that she was 100% true to him, and would come back. The world had treated him... _badly_, was the right word. Just then, thunder boomed, and the rain fell as though falling at a million miles an hour.

Whitney's arms began to ache. She wanted to hold him as they stood in the midst of the growing storm. Lightning shot across the sky in a million different directions, thunder crashed every few seconds, the clouds black, purple, and an devilish brown swirled above them now, threatening to wreak havoc. She dropped the machete, and closed the space between them. "Jason" She moved both hands softly up his arms to rest on his shoulders, she starred him directly in the eyes. It was going to be harder to leave him those few hours now than she though. "I don't want to go... its the only way to stop more people from coming here." She saw his eyes close. They didn't open, he stood with closed eyes. She felt as though her heart would break into pieces right there. She felt her heart jump as another bolt of lightning rushed violently across the sky. Her hair was matted to her forehead, her clothes stuck to her skin, rain hid the tears falling from her eyes.

"I care about you Jason, I promise you, I will come back." She sniffled, looking to the ground, and back up again, back up to look in his eyes, which were now open again, and looking back at her. "I will never leave you." Her hands moved to his neck, just below his ears. She would have taken off his mask and kissed him, if she thought he would allow her. At this moment she would not have cared what monstrosity he hid behind the mask. She pulled herself to him, her head against his chest, her arms around his neck, into a tight embrace. The machete fell from Jason's hand, landing hard into a forming puddle. When Whitney felt his arms around her, she only held him tighter, her eyes closed, her heart racing. _I love you, I love you,_ she kept thinking to herself, if only she could tell him. The thunder rolled through the skies, accompanying the lightning in perfect harmony. It was time.

Whitney lifted her head, still so close, he still held her to him. Her forehead rested against the bottom of his mask, her hands moving against his back, up along to his skull. She lifted her head again, and starred at him, at his eyes, she wanted him to know what she was doing before she did it, she wanted him to stop her, if he didn't want her to do this. She allowed her hands to move to the edges of his mask, and rest them there, watching him inquisitively. _Can I do this Jason?_ her expression begged. The only thing between them now, was rain.

Slowly, she lifted it, away from his skin, up, revealing slowly his face, from chin, to forehead. Her eyes never left his. She expected him to be disfigured. She prepared herself for the very worst, so when she finally saw him, he was what she expected. He was Jason, the same Jason he always had been. The mask fell from her hands, resting behind him on the ground. Her eyelids seemed to grow heavy, still as close to him as ever, beneath the storm, still growing in its violence, she closed her eyes, and pressed her lips against his, and did not pull away.

Every inch of her arms wrapped around his neck, she gave him kiss after kiss, and when she felt him respond to her... she would drop those dead men off on the road somewhere, and she'd be back. She was thanking the dead men now, as she stood beneath the storm, in Jason's arms. She would be back, she'd die now if she could not come back.


	11. Darkness

**A/N: Hey everyone, sorry again about the delay in writing - I should be able to post more frequently after this Monday.**

**I know some of you had some questions about _other_ characters from the movie (won't spoil this chapter for you), so I invite you to read the newest development.**

**Thank you so much for all your kind reviews, **

**please continue to review, you can't know how much I love to read them!**

* * *

Chapter 11:

Euphoria consumed her. She couldn't move, she didn't want to. Driving the car away from the camp now seemed like the worst possible idea she could have come up with. Was she dreaming?

With the ceasing of the rain, Whitney woke from what seemed like an eternity with him. With one last kiss, she rest her forehead against his chin. The car would have to go into the lake, there was no other way. She could not bare to leave the camp now.

She dug her nails into his shoulders, into his back, her eyes closed, once more leaning her head against his chest. It was a powerful thing, just to be so close. She felt as though she could not get close enough, and something quite like frustration coursed through her.

Both of them heard it. Their heads snapped in one direction, toward the woods to the left of the house. Another twig snapped, much like the one which had caught the officer's attention before he had been so brutally slaughtered. Someone was definitely out there. Whitney released her grip on Jason. He retrieved his machete, and his mask, and walked straight toward the source of the noise.

Her arms were empty again. She put her fingers delicately to her lips, and watched him move away. She truly wished every human dead who set foot upon these grounds. Once again comfort stripped away from her by some foolish intruder. Well, now was the time to deal with the last intruders. She gripped the hair of the decapitated head and carried it, dangling, blood dripping slowly from its severed neck to the cop car. She'd place it upon the passengers seat ever so delicately, like the center piece of a brilliant dinner table. _How nice_, she thought, cop on a silver platter. She knew she must have been losing her mind. But to lose her mind to Jason? Whitney smiled.

She peered out in his direction. He was gone. Not a noise nor movement penetrated the calm and silence. Whitney dragged the stiff bodies by their arms to the car, shoving one in the back seat and the other in the trunk. They were far heavier than she thought they'd be. The car revealed surprisingly few possesions. Just a couple of guns and ammunition for them, which she took and set to the side of the house. She drove the car down to the dock and promptly found a large enough rock to position on the gas peddle, allowing the car to speed straight down the board walk, and into the water with a magnificent splash, sending water in every direction, and the car began slowly to sink. Whitney watched its descent, until only bubbles disturbed the surface of the water, gray water, reflecting the storm still looming in the skies above her . She walked to the edge. The roof of the car was still visible, but slowly seeping into the murky water. She sighed. It was over.

She came back to the house. Jason wasn't there. If someone was in those woods, she knew he'd hunt them down, and kill them. How long did that take? She let herself into the mine, carrying those guns she had retrieved from the car. She walked slowly down the passage, which had quickly become home. Over the weeks, Whitney had begun to recognize every groove in the earthen walls, every uneven step along the mine path, every room she came upon, it was all so familiar, nothing was a surprise any more.

Everything she retrieved from the outside world went into her room, with her mattress, though she had serious doubts she'd ever sleep there again. No. She softly smiled to herself. She never sleep down here again, unless he was with her.

She rummaged through her victim's camping bag and found some warmer clothes. _Surprise_, she thought, the teenager actually prepared for cooler weather. She changed into them, a black sweater and blue jeans. Everything else in the bag was very light summer wear. She'd need new stuff... eventually.

Hours passed. The gray clouds parted to reveal a bright red evening sky. Jason was still not home. Whitney had spent the better part of the afternoon lying in Jason's bed, waiting for him to return. He didn't. It wasn't long before she drifted to sleep, the covers just below her shoulder, lying on her right side facing the window, the distant red sky behind softly blowing curtains.

Crickets sang. With her eyes still closed, and caught somewhere between the worlds of wake and sleep, Whitney began to feel something moving along her cheek bone. She moved slightly, though it did not stop. Was it normal? her hibernating mind tried to rationalize. When finally she awoke, it was dark, completely dark. No moon. But upon her face, a hand, moving delicately across her features, caressing her skin. She took a deep breath and exhaled, lightly smiling.

She couldn't see, though when she reached over to touch his mask, confirming his presence, she shifted herself under the covers, and in to his embrace.

Was she still sleeping? The crickets were gone. It was as though she closed her eyes and opened them, and everything was different. He wasn't holding her any more. She reached over. She felt Jason beside her. She must have been so deeply asleep she did not dream, nor notice time. Then a hand fell hard over her mouth. She tried to scream but the force of its grasp concealed any potential sound which threatened to emerge from her lips. Just a pitiful yelp emitted her throat, before she was pulled out of the bed and carried down the hall. Whitney clawed at the figure, until she knew she was drawing blood. She kicked violently, and finally on their way down the stairs she managed to break herself free by falling half a flight onto her stomach.

Getting up was painful, she was certain that she had broken something. Then, a light. Her kidnapper had a flashlight, and shot the beam directly into her face. She squinted and held her hand up before her eyes.

"We have to get out of here." Came a familiar male voice. Who was it? She knew that voice. He grabbed her by the arm and led her out the front door. He was nervous, she could feel his hand shaking as it grasped tightly to her left arm. Outside of the house, Whitney punched him in the jaw, he gasped, let go of her, and dropped his flashlight. She retrieved it immediately and pointed the light directly into his face, and was about to scream for Jason... only, she found herself unable to make a noise.

"Clay?" It was her brother.

"Whitney, we have to get you out of here."

She took slow deep breaths, and continued pointing the light into his face.

"What are you doing here?" She questioned him, "I thought you were dead."

"No, that night, I was able to escape. We don't have time for this Whitney, we have to get out of here."

"I'll sit with you in the car" she said. He took this as good enough, and took her arm, basically pulling her to his SUV.

Once in, he plunged his key into the ignition, but before he could turn the key, Whitney grabbed his wrist, digging her nails painfully into his skin.

"Wait." she said. "I have to explain something to you Clay. You might not understand, but..."

"I understand perfectly Whitney," His expression could not have been more serious. "This freak who lives here has you brainwashed. I saw the whole thing. The cops, the murders, I saw you kiss him. You need serious help, and you need it now." he said. With that he punched her in the face so hard, she fell against the window. She did not get up. Clay fired up the engine and shot out of there faster than he'd ever pushed that vehicle before. At the last moment, before leaving the path and turning onto the road, through his rear view mirror, his red tail lights revealed Jason, standing at the end of the path, his rusty machete in his right hand. "You're gonna be OK now, Whitney." Clay told her. Her head pressed against the window, her eyes shut, blood leaking from her already swollen lip. Clay must have broken the speed limit ten fold that night.


	12. Clay's Mistake

**A/N: Thanks everyone for bearing with me through my busy time. **

**Thanks again for such wonderful reviews - I couldn't continue without them :)**

**Please read & review :)  
**

Chapter 12

It was all just a bad dream, right? Whitney hadn't opened her eyes yet. The room was cool, the sheets were cool, like they usually were. But Jason wouldn't have strapped her into the bed, would he? Whitney thought they were done with the chains.

The ceiling was white, the walls were white, the bed was white, the door was white. It was cold, and empty. Whitney was definitely not in Jason's bed. Her arms were tied with white straps to her sides, as were her feet strapped down as well. She was wearing a white hospital gown with little pastel blue dots. Suddenly she remembered what had happened with Clay, and knew she must have been in the hospital. There was a window by her bed. She could see the entire town and a few lakes in the distance. She must have been on a high level of the building. She was completely alone.

"No.. no... no... NOO!" Whitey screamed, pulling at her straps until her wrists were raw and red. "HELP!" She screamed. She struggled with the straps but it was no use. Exhausted, Whitney fell back onto the bed, and began to cry. Tears began flowing down the side of her face like a faucet left just one twist further than a drip, she sobbed uncontrollably. Both frustration and intense sadness and panic filling her. Jason. She sobbed his name, crying out _Oh God!_, she never wanted to be in a bed by herself again. She took a deep breath and screamed "HELP!" over and over again until her throat could handle the pressure no longer.

"Now now, honey, don't be like that, everything is going to be just fine. I know you've been through a lot, but that bad bad man can't hurt you any more Whitney dear. Now take these pills, drink this water, and try to get some rest. We'll have you back to normal in no time. Oh, my name is Ms. Pumples" A very _pleasant, _short and plump little nurse sat beside Whitney's bed. Her long nails were painted bright pink, her lips the same. Her hair was blond, tied back behind her nurse's hat. Pumples held a small plastic cup bearing two tiny brown capsules to Whitney's mouth. Whitney took them into her mouth, and promptly spit them out, so hard in fact they were propelled against the far wall and fell to the floor.

"Now that isn't any way to treat medicine young lady. You know in this country not everyone can have medicine!" Pumples' lips pursed together and she stood up from her flimsy chair, walked over and retrieved the pills.

The door opened, Clay walked in carrying a newspaper, and Pumples stuffed the pills into her front pocket before they could be seen. She turned around, smiled at Clay pleasantly, giggled, and walked up to him.

"She's awake! Can you imagine, two days in a coma? But she can talk now. You go ahead and have a good visit, I'll just... I'll be right back" Pumples left quickly, her high heels clacking against the floor's nicely polished tiles. She didn't seem capable of walking without moving her arms in every direction like a dainty little cosmetics lady.

Clay tossed the paper down on the table beside Whitney's bed, and forgot about it. "Whitney, how do you feel?"

"Why am I strapped in here" She said, her voice weak, crying had worn her vocal chords already.

"I don't know. Maye they were afraid you would try to escape. That happens a lot with psychotic patients."

"Psychotic!?" Whitney shouted to the best of her ability, "I'm in a psych ward?"

"They just want to make sure you haven't been traumatized." At Clay's words Whitney began to laugh, a dark laugh which one directs only to the most idiotic fools.

"Whitney?" Clay asked.

"What? What do you want Clay?"

"I want to make sure you're alright, thats what I want." He said, "Now we need to talk Whitney. I saw you assist a murderer. You know... you might go to prison for this."

"You'd turn in your own sister?" Whitney relaxed her head against the perfect white pillow, and set her gaze to the afternoon sun above the town. "Clay, if you had any good sense, you'd leave this building, leave this town, take that car with you, and never come back. I bet he's seen you, knows what you look like... he won't leave me here Clay, I know he couldn't do that. He's Jason. No one can stop him." She coughed a few times, a dry cough.

"Jason... Jason Voorhees? From those stories? No Whitney, its alright now, we're safe here. He can't get you any more." He ran the back of his hand down the side of her face, wiping away her tears. Inside, Whitney's skin was crawling. Jason had touched her that way. _Jason_ – would he ever caress her face again?

She jerked her face away from Clay's hand,

"Don't touch me" she said. Clay frowned,

"I'm sorry" he said. Just then Pumples burst through the door with a stack of clean sheets, a glass of water, and a new plastic cup with the same brown pills Whitney had refused to ingest earlier. "Now Clay, I think we can untie her arms from those straps. She seems quite calm."

Whitney turned her attention to a news paper. The headlines read "Lake in Back Road Boils."

"Clay?" He noticed then he had left the paper open, and mentally chastised himself for this idiocy. He chucked the paper off the table, and it landed lightly against the floor.

"Don't worry Whitney. Just some meteorologist studying some lake." He gently unfastened the straps which held her wrists to the bed, and Pumples left the pills and water beside Whitney on the table, where the paper had been.

Whitney once again turned her head to the window. The sun was beginning to set. She knew the article was about Crystal Lake. Was Jason still out there? She felt sick to her stomach, to her mind, to her heart. Everything here was wrong. Her brother, the room, the nurse, the hospital. Everything was wrong. She wanted her bed back, she wanted Jason back. She wanted to be in the dark again, she had learned to feel safe with him. She looked up at Clay, and her brow began to wrinkle. Her eyes slowly took on a look of agony, and she began sobbing.

"Why did you come for me Clay?"

"Because I love..."

"Why did you take me away from him. I didn't want to leave him Clay." She closed her eyes, and started to cry. Not the kind of cry one does when they wish they weren't crying, Whitney didn't care who heard, she didn't care what Clay thought of her. The cocktail of emotions brewing within her finally reached an earth shattering peak. The sadness, and panic were beginning to take her over. Clay just stood and watched his sister weep. He began to realize he would not get through to her, everything he had said to try to reassure her, or to comfort her, she didn't seem to understand. He had seen her kissing him in the rain just the day before. She had removed his mask, he had not forced her to do anything. Clay couldn't put the facts together in his mind, he didn't want to. She must have been under his control somehow. He walked to the wall, and took a seat in one of the uncomfortable pastel blue chairs with metal arm rests, and kept an eye on her. She faced the window, her chest heaving up and down, still sobbing. She covered her face with her newly freed hands, red marks still bruised her wrists from where the straps had been. She'd rather still be in those chains beneath the earth, in the mine shaft. Here, she was a prisoner.

Clay watched her the entire time. Jason must have had control of her somehow. His power must have been more than anyone knew. Whitney meanwhile, had cried herself to sleep, and lay peacefully beneath the orange light of the setting sun.

It was 2am. The hallway lights had dimmed. Clay could not sleep for the life of him, but his stomach was growling like an animal. He would not leave his sister, no. He could not leave her. But his stomach... There was a vending machine down the hall and around the corner, he had a buck thirty five in his pocket, he'd grab a bag of peanuts and return pronto. So thats what he did.

The hospital was creepy this early in the morning, no one was around. He'd give anything to find the light switch by the time he'd reached the end of the hall. He couldn't stop thinking about Jason. He approached the vending machine to his left, it was nearly empty. There were no peanuts. He'd settle for a bag of _Lays_. Before he could reach his snack machine, Clay found himself starring at the ceiling, his back killing him. He had tripped in a puddle of dark water, but down here it was too dark to tell what it was, only that it was warm. It was all over him. It was leaking out from behind the Janitor's closet, Clay realized instantaneously that it must have been blood. He stood up, and stomped over and forcefully pushed the door open. The Janitor fell out, a large syringe protruding from his jugular. He'd bled to death.

Clay dashed like a mad man back to Whitney's room. He couldn't think it. There was no way it was Jason. The hallway seemed to go on and on forever, like a nightmare, his destination just before him, but never could he reach it. He returned to the room to find Whitney right where he left her, sleeping peacefully. Nothing was disturbed. He wasn't hungry any more, and now he was covered in blood. He sighed. At least Whitney was safe.

Whatever had hit him in the head, he didn't see it. It knocked him out completely. It was a punch to kill, but perhaps focus was not on Clay enough to do the job completely.

Whitney heard the blow. She slowly turned her head to see Clay on the floor against the wall, blood slowly forming a puddle on the floor beside his head. Beside Clay's limp seemingly lifeless body was the shadow of a large figure, carrying a bloody dripping ax.

"Am I dreaming?" It was Jason, standing in the doorway, his shadow extending all the way to her bedside. "Jason?" He gripped the ax tighter, and slowly approached her. She just watched. She watched him. She watched the ax. He held it up before him. Was she dreaming? He then placed it down on the table, knocking over both the water and the pills. Whitney took a deep breath. "Jason" she couldn't stop saying his name. He pulled the covers off her with a fury, she flinched, startled by the gesture. He saw how her legs were bound. With one forceful pull he tore the strap from the bed, freeing her instantly. She looked over at Clay. She was sure Jason had killed him. Part of her was sad, but he'd kidnapped her, and he stood in her way, stood in the way of everything. Jason re-claimed the ax and hooked it somewhere onto himself, and lifted Whitney from the bed, and took her out of there, storming down the hall through the darkness, his steps echoing thunderous booms. She held on tight to him, allowing her head to rest on his shoulder. She knew there was going to be trouble. On the other side of a set of large pink doors lay five dead men. Three of them had been security guards. Two were decapitated and the others barely resembled the human form.

Jason let go of her. She stood in the corner beside a pay phone. Jason threw his ax at the next guard who approached him, it landed in his head, cracking his skull. The man's eyes were wide as he fell to his knees, the ax centered right between the eye sockets, and leaking blood, fluid, and possibly brain matter. Jason tilted his head in a few different directions. All was silent. No one else was coming.

Whitney found it hard to walk at first, but she was quickly gaining her strength back. "We have to get out of here Jason" she told him, her voice a mere whimper. She walked to him, step by step, into the darkness of the waiting room. It was an empty waiting room. Almost all the lights were out. "I didn't leave you." She said. She swallowed hard. She stood before him. She took the ax from his hand and rested it down onto a brown / orange cushioned chair, which would never recover from the stain it just received, and moved into him. She just had to be close to him. It was coming back to her, her sense of reality, her craving for him which had been building within her for months now. Everything was coming back. She knew they had to leave, fast. But it had to wait. She was so angry with her brother for what he had done to her, so angry that she had been unconscious for two days. Yet, she was warmed. Jason was here... granted the hospital was not far from the camp, he was here, and he was here for her.

The darkness enshrouded them. She embraced Jason and he embraced her. She felt his breathing, slow, and deep. He sounded sad, he sounded the way she felt. Slowly she removed his mask so she could kiss him. She held the mask behind him, her arms around his neck, it was as though a great torment had been released from her. Him too, apparently.

How long their embrace lasted, it didn't matter to her.

She yelped out. Jason had slammed her against the wall, applying the same force physically that she was already feeling within herself. She was pressed against the wall, and against him. His hands on her shoulders, their embrace continued. He hadn't hurt her. God she was hungry. No, not for food. She didn't want to leave... yet. A slow, low creek pierced the silence. Both of them awoke from indulgence. That had been a door. Whitney grabbed the ax and gave it to Jason, peering out from behind his shoulder. She'd trade her soul to stay between him and that wall for the rest of her life.

There was no one in the room with them.

"Jason lets go home" she whispered to him. No sooner had she said it, that her stomach became heavy, incredibly heavy. She began coughing immediately. She didn't understand... the pain... she didn't understand what was going on until she looked behind Jason and saw Clay. The bullet had gone straight through Jason, and into Whitney's abdomen.


	13. The Beginning

Chapter 13.

It was dark when Whitney opened her eyes. She turned her head to the right against her pillow and looked out the window. The lights of the town sparkled. She knew she was back in that hospital bed. Everything was clean, white, sterile. She tried to sit up, and instantly regretted it. The bandage wrapped around her abdomen covered her from below the breast to her lower hips. It must have been a really bad wound, and the pain was extraordinary. "Where's Clay?" Whitney asked. Nurse Pumples sat beside her, and shook her head. "We took him downstairs" she said "He's in a high security unit. He can't hurt you any more. My goodness, you really have no one in this world... do you. First that awful murderer from the lake, and then your own brother." Pumples had the biggest mouth Whitney had ever encountered. What a dumb thing for a nurse to say to a patient who had just been shot by her own brother, and if Whitney truly were alone, she'd probably have cried. "Where's the murderer from the lake?" Whitney asked, pretending to sound frightened.

"We couldn't find him. We haven't seen anything out of the ordinary all week, so we're sure he's gone."

"A week!" Whitney hollered, "How long was I out!?"

"You've been through surgery to remove the bullet, and you haven't been conscious for... yes, I'd say a week dearest." Whitney opened her mouth to say something, but couldn't get a word passed her coughing. "Try not to speak dearest, you've been shot remember, these things take time to heal."

"What day is it?"

"Its August 13th dearest."

"Friday?" Whitney asked. Pumples nodded. Whitney sighed, with relief, and Pumples couldn't figure it out, she was a bit disturbed. "Oh honey, Friday the 13th is nothing to feel happy about. People get killed on Friday the 13th, its extremely bad luck, you should know the stories, Jason prowls on Friday the 13th, its like his day of..."

"Shut up!" Whitney cried, and she turned her head to face the window, coughing. When she got her voice back, she simply, and coldly said "Get out."

"But someone need to look after y..."

"GET OUT!" Whitney screamed, and started coughing yet again. Pumples jumped in her seat, and stood up fast, the chair flying across the room from behind her, her hot-pink stilettos clacking fiercely against the floor in a hurried exit.

Whitney watched the plump little woman fashionably run out into the hallway, her arms flailing around. Oh boy, she was a piece of work. To assume the murderer is gone because no one has seen him in a week... At least Whitney could rest assured that he hadn't been harmed or contained.

Killed – that would never happen.

The sun began to rise on the 13th of August, Whitney had lain awake for six hours, waiting, wishing Jason would come to her in the darkness, and get her out of there. He never did. She forced herself to stop worrying about where he was, surely he was capable of hiding himself somewhere safe, and the fears were beginning to drive her crazy.

Whitney never saw Pumples again, this morning a different nurse came in, a very indifferent nurse with an emotionless face. She was very pale and thin, large black circles under her eyes, she reminded Whitney of a raccoon. She set a tray of food upon Whitney's bed before her, and left without saying a word.

Whitney had grown to hate the sound of the human voice. Pumples was especially aggravating. Whitney looked around. _Everything_ was aggravating. She wanted to throw dirt on the walls, she wanted to tear things apart. She wanted to create disarray among the order in this place. It was all too much for her to handle. Every sense of the word normal no longer existed to Whitney. There was nothing outside Camp Crystal Lake that was normal.

She wasn't hungry.

So they had locked Clay in a high security ward. _Nice_. She thought, if he hadn't shown up at the lake when he did, none of this would be happening. Although now, if he tried to tell anyone he'd seen Whitney help the infamous Jason Voorhees murder a couple policy officers, his psych ward membership would ensure no one'd believe him. That part Whitney could definitely live with.

10am...11am...12pm... Whitney sat in that room with no company, no noise. Not a single person walked by her room all morning since the raccoon lady came with her breakfast. She didn't hear a door open, a phone ring, a foot step. Nothing. Not a radio, not a television, it was all silent. By 1pm, she could handle it no longer. She knew something was going on.

Whitney slowly sat up, taking the pain her bullet wound caused her. It couldn't work any other way. She'd have to deal with it. Her first few steps were slow, but she made it to the doorway, and looked out. The light at the end of the hallway was flickering off and on. The lights at the opposite end were off completely. Something rank swam through the air out here. Whitney knew definitely now that something was seriously wrong. She walked towards the blinking light, the pale blue doors connecting this hallway to the next were closed, and something blacked oozed its way through the crack under the doors. _Blood?_ She slowly limped her way down the hall, and opened the door. There was raccoon lady, propped up against the door, her neck sliced open, her eyes rolled back, blood everywhere. "ew" Whitney muttered. She pushed the door all the way open, letting raccoon lady fall flat to the floor. Whitney stepped over the woman and kept going. Three or four nurses and a good dozen patients were massacred in one of the waiting rooms, judging by the bloody skid marks trailing the floors now, some of those bodies had been dragged there. It was Jason alright, today _must_ have been Friday the 13th. But where was he?

She heard screaming, it was a young man. Whitney smiled, a grim, dark and somewhat weak smile. The poor guy threw himself through a set of white doors, and grabbed Whitney by the left arm. "WE HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE!" He screamed. He couldn't have been more than 15 years old. Whitney however, didn't budge.

"I'm sorry?" She said. "Go where? Why?" her voice was terribly coy.

"He's Coming!"

"But... why sir... who is _he?"_

Then those doors flung open as though they'd weighed no more than thin sheets of paper. And they stayed open. Magnets on the floor, you see. Jason stood before them both, wielding an incredibly large limb-saw he'd taken from an operating room. Both the surgeon and the patient... well... one would not distinguish features between the two ever again.

"Oh _HIM_" Whitney said. She grabbed onto the boy's hand. "don't be afraid. It will be over soon."

And it was. It was over very soon.

"Is everyone in this place dead?" Whitney asked, stepping over the former boy. Jason slowly nodded his head. "We should go now" Whitney said. Whitney took a step, but stopped. It wasn't right. A sense of distortion or... disorientation, she couldn't identify. She tilted her head down, blood leaked painfully from her bandage. She looked up again, she looked at Jason. She fell to her knees.

"No!" she said, but she could not speak past a whisper. She was fading fast. She wanted to cry, but there was no time. He was too far from her. She held out a weakening arm. He was too far away. She was going to die there on the floor, her last wish at that moment, to die in his embrace, was not coming true. The fear immense, before fleeting. All was black, soon, and all was silent.

* * *

"The report said that he massacred everyone on the ground floor."

"Jesus Tommy, how many's that?"

"Don't know Rod, at least four hundred. Our witness said he carries a machete, and shooting 'im doesn't work or something... must be wearin' some kind of full body bullet proof suit or somethin'. And his face, he wears a hockey mask. I tell ya, I've seen some pretty weird shit, but this takes it man."

"Yeah... totally."

Tommy and Rod, the cop duo of the county, sat outside the hospital sucking back their small time diner coffees. They sat and waited. There was no one else around – and it was dark. Real dark. It was all quiet, like the quiet when you think the storm is over, the kind of quiet you just know will prologue something catastrophic. It was quiet like that far too long. Hours.

Tommy leaned slowly over the wheel, taking care not to disturb the horn, or spill his cooling half empty coffee on his perfectly pressed uniform pants. "Rod... look at that... that rusty old truck." He said with a degree of disbelief. "Its leaving the emergency entrance... There's an arm dangling out the passenger window. Rod... ROD!... Fer fuck sakes Rod WAKE UP GODDAMIT!" Tommy smacked his partner over the head with the back of his hand.

"For cryin' out loud Tommy... oh hey... look at that rusty old truck leaving the emergency..."

Tommy cursed about a hundred times under his breath shaking his head as he fired up the engine and proceeded slowly with the lights turned off. _I've got the biggest horses ass of a partner I swear to #$% God he couldn't be a bigger horses ass of a partner._

That thing had come out of no where, that rusted up old truck. The windows were covered in slime, black slime, like the kind that builds up over glass when its been sitting in a junk yard for decades. It was a big bulky old thing with God only know what sitting in its rear, junk from throughout the mechanical ages.

"I don't know about this Tommy..."

"I do. My guts tellin' me thats the guy. He probably got to the hospital with that truck... if everyone else is dead... thats gotta be him."

"But the report said just everyone on the first floor."

"Shut up!" Tommy roared, before silently reminding himself to stay quiet as well. They could make no noise.

"He's turnin'... he's turnin' off down that damned Crystal lake passage Tommy... thats the way to Crystal Lake and its Friday the 13th. Lets just go back ok man... we can get 'im tomorrow, you know, when its _not_ Friday the 13th. Maybe he sleeps on Saturday, you know, like the big nap after Christmas dinner."

"Rod... If you don't shut your rotten toothed mouth I'll shut it for you... and then throw you down in that creek there... ya hear me?"

"Yessir." Rod yelped nervously, and didn't say anything else the whole of the way there, but boy he sat shaking, his heart racing, and tears rimming his eyes. He didn't want to die. He had a wife. He loved his wife. That was more than what could be said for ass hole Tommy who didn't give a flying fuck about his family. Rod sighed, closed his eyes, and tried not to think about this. Tommy was the leader, he just hoped Tommy would lead them back to safety after this was all over.

The rusted truck had no license plates. It looked old as hell, but it sped up like the devil down that old dirt road. Rod watched out the window as the trees flew by, Tommy followed about twenty yards behind, lights still off. Their only guide was the tail lights of that truck. Rod wondered, out of all he'd heard about Jason, and he was sure this was Jason, wouldn't Jason know he was being followed? Why would Jason just allow them to follow him – unless he wanted them to follow him – unless he had plans for them. Rod wanted to jump out of the car right then, but there was danger out there too. He knew then – they were both screwed.

The large rusted truck drove on without fail into the darkness. Tommy slowed down step by step, he'd been to Crystal Lake before, it wasn't far off. He wouldn't park inside the camp... and he was beginning to lose his nerve. Jason Voorhees... Tommy'd seen more slaughters, kidnappings, and missing persons adds in this County to know that Jason was no joke. It was just the fact that, here it was, his opportunity. Hero status on a silver platter. If he was just two steps behind Jason, he'd be able to save the victim and get the hell out of there. The whole time, images of awards and recognition filled his thoughts... before the image of doom flashed through his mind. There they were, at the camp. Just four or five seconds in his hypothetical dream world and he'd completely lost focus. He stopped fast, parked in the darkness beneath some tall trees. Jason hadn't seen them. Tommy's breathing was heavy. He was scared. Really scared. He looked over to Rod, whose head was squished against his shoulder. Asleep again? Tommy shook his buddy, but he didn't wake up. He wasn't asleep, he was passed out cold. The fear, Rod was never good at dealing with the fear.

So Tommy watched, it was Jason alright, the Truck's door opening with the screech of rusted hinges at least 50 years old. He moved across the front of the truck, his footsteps slow, powerful, determined. The other door opened, Whitney's upper abdomen now leaning out over the sat, her fingertips brushing against the grass. She was already beginning to turn blue. The girl was dead. Tommy gulped back his stomach's desire to spill its contents all over the dash board. He'd seen dead women before, murrdered women, unrecognizable without their dental records, but there was something about this. He was there for nothing, his prize was dead... and now he couldn't leave. He thought for sure Jason would prowl their way to the cop car and hack out his evil heart's desire, but he didn't. Jason lifted the girl from the truck, cradling the body in his arms. Tommy watched now more in interest than blinding fear, what the hell was going on?

Jason lifted Whitney from the seat of the truck, her back against his right arm, his left arm beneath her knees. She was dead. The bullet had finally killed her, and Jason knew the man who did it was still alive. For now, he could rot in the basement of the hospital. He wasn't going anywhere soon.

Jason carried Whitney's corpse down to the clearing. The moon sparkled above Crystal Lake, reflecting in the water all its glory. Jason's steps echoed across the lake, his steps against the wooden dock. He stood before the lake, his home for over 50 years, his home, and death. She was lifeless now. Jason knelt to his knees, and released Whitney's cold lifeless body into the water, and watched her fade beneath the surface.

Tommy frowned, was this what he did with his victims? Threw them in the lake? That car... Jason was rid of the girl now, Tommy knew he'd be coming after the car now. In panic, he opened his door and tried to leave, realizing his seat belt still covered him, he struggled in desperation to undo it, taking him about 6 seconds before he was successful, he crawled around the front of the car and hid within the trees. He was right, Jason had spotted the car. Tommy sighed with relief, he'd seen the car, but not him. Rod was in there... Rod was a goner. Rod should have had bigger balls than to pass out in a situation like this. _Oh well... His fault. _No. Rod was awake. Tommy's heart sank in his chest as he realized Rod was awake and had quickly started up the car. _What the fuck!?_ Before Tommy could take another breath Rod had sped out of there, passing the exit sign and disappearing onto the road.

Tommy took off running through the trees. The last thing Tommy ever saw was the clear shimmer of a stainless steal blade coming out through his belly.

Jason placed his foot hard down on Tommy's back, and pulled out the machete. He wiped the blade of the dead cop's blood. Stepping out from the trees, Jason approached the water, walked out to the clearing. The still waters began to ripple. Whitney......

She emerged from the lake like a goddess of the sea, long weeds hanging from her arms, and her shimmering hair. Her skin still pale blue, dark, dark circles beneath her eyes, her bandages gone, her wound, gone. The water was her clothing, she glistened beneath the moonlight. She lived again. She walked slowly, but moved quickly, with a smoothness yet an impossible speed.

She was at him, she faced him. She remembered him. She removed his mask, tossing it to the ground. She was at level, powerful, passionate. She embraced Jason, taking his mouth to hers, his chest to hers. It was the beginning.

The End.

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**A/N: My thanks go out to all my readers, and especially to all my wonderful reviewers. Yes, sadly this is the last chapter of this story - but in true Friday the 13th form I am sure I will not be able to bring myself to just end it here. So stay tuned - I am incredibly busy with school right now but perhaps closer to summer I will start up a sequel.**

**If you haven't reviewed for my chapters before - please review now as the story has come to a close, and let me know your thoughts about the story.**

**It was so much fun to write this - but even more fun to check the review forum - you guys are my favorites man!**

**See ya'll soon :D  
**


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